


fuck the police

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fuck the Police, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is intent on proving that Inspector Javert is merely a man.  He will produce effects with his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fuck the police

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how to defend myself but i wrote [this prompt](http://lecapunk.tumblr.com/post/59651431136/oh-no-oh-no-someone-please-stop-me-stop-me-stop) on august 29, 2013.

The encounter was not, exactly, expected on either of their parts.  Enjolras was young and fierce and unbending; Javert mirrored him in that unyielding ferocity.  Their first meeting was a clashing of archangels in a back-alley.  There was less grey in Javert’s hair and a little more roundness in Enjolras’s cheeks, but the fierceness in them would be undimmed when they would meet later — though they would not recognize each other.

This was in part because at the time, it had been dark; Enjolras’s hair had been shorter then, a soft cloud around his face rather than the curtain that would come to hang around his shoulders.  The boy — for he had been a boy; eighteen and new to Paris, enraged by the poverty he saw around him, the squalor of the poor — had confronted him in an alleyway.

"What kind of order allows for this?" he’d hissed, sharp and still somehow almost hymnal.  "What kind of police sees these things and  _protects_  the men who harm and degrade women for their  _pleasures_?”

Javert had attempted to ignore him.

"Do  _you_  avail yourself of these pleasures?  Is it some sick twisted collusion among you all?” Enjolras asked, drawing close.  He was nearly of a height with Javert even then.

Javert stepped back.  ”How dare you!  I would never degrade myself with  _whores_.”

"Then why allow the safe escape of the men who degrade them?  Why prosecute the women — who have no way of removing themselves from their position — and not the men, whose choice it is to find their pleasure by the docks and in back-alleys like this one?"  Enjolras was earnest, eyes flashing and voice as steady as stone.

No power on earth or in heaven could move the heart of wood that Javert possessed.  ”If they were not whores they would not find themselves in those positions.”

"They have no  _choice_!  What choice have they, when there is little work to be had, and none of it enough to put clothes on their backs and food in their bellies?  Can you blame them for their own attempts at survival?”  Enjolras stepped forward again.  ”Or do you find yourself so far removed from petty vices, Monsieur, that it cannot occur to you that other men will sate theirs where they will, and women who have no choice will find the worst men forcing themselves upon them?”

"I have never known a woman’s touch!"  Javert growled, drawn up to his full height, eyes flashing.  

Enjolras’s eyes flashed as well, for another reason.  ”Would you understand it then, if a man were to do it?  If a man were to say, ‘I will do anything you ask, sate any desire you have, for five francs, for four, for three,’” he said, and, something of a dramatist at heart, dropped to his knees.

The muscles in Javert’s jaw clenched.  ”What do you take me for?”

"A man, Monsieur, no more, no less than any man," Enjolras spat back.

"No man could do what you seem to believe you can," Javert said, glowering down at Enjolras, who looked up at him through his lush eyelashes.

Enjolras sneered.  ”You bluff, old man.”

"Do I, boy?"  Javert snarled.  "Or do you?"

"I say nothing I would not do."  Enjolras was steady in his resolve.  He knew not where this was going — it had gone from its planned course long ago.

"You would degrade yourself like a common whore to try and prove a lie true?" Javert scoffed at him.

"You would stall me.  You fear what I am capable of."

"Liar."

"Hypocrite."

Javert’s hand shot out, gripping Enjolras by the hair.  ”You cannot call me that.  Hypocrisy has never passed my hand nor my lips.”

"And what about your  _prick_?”  A hot wave of desire pulsed through Enjolras, completely unbidden.  It was the danger — of being caught, of being wrong, of power slipping back into the hands of this policeman — and his eyes were dark with it.

"I remain unmoved," Javert said.

"I could move you."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Then test me, oh man of the law."  Enjolras’s mouth split into a heady smirk.  "Test me, and see what I would dare to do."

Javert stepped back again, his back resting against the wall.  ”Crawl.”

Enjolras crawled.

"And would you have me put my mouth to another use?  Or perhaps my hands?  Or would you perhaps be conquered by my thighs?"  Enjolras kept his voice low enough not to carry but loud enough that the other man could not mistake his meaning.

Javert snorted.  ”Nothing of you could conquer me.”

"I disagree, and I will prove it."

"You would need to shut your mouth for that."

Enjolras’s hands came up, parting the cloak that hung heavy around Javert, and then unbuttoned the garments that covered his aim.  His mouth was inexpert, but his drive was unmatched in this as much as it was in all things.

The Inspector hardened underneath his ministrations, though nothing else betrayed the fact, only the tightness in his thighs and his prick resting heavy on Enjolras’s tongue.

It was brief, and messy, and bitter.  When it was over, Enjolras rocked back on his haunches and looked up at Javert, triumph flashing in his eyes.  ”I win.”

"The body is merely a vessel, and an inadequate one.  The virtues of men lie elsewhere."

"Then surely only bad men would seek to sate the urges of the body on women who cannot stop them from doing so for fear of slow and lingering death by poverty and cold and starvation."  Enjolras stood.

Javert was silent.  ”A whore is still a whore.”

"Is and does are two different things," Enjolras said, his own cloak covering the desire he would have to sate by his own hand, inconvenient and messy in his own rooms.  "But I see this was of no use to you, and therefore of none to me.  Goodbye."

Cloak pulled tight around him, he disappeared into the night, leaving the Inspector to deal with his aftermath.

Ultimately, it changed nothing.


End file.
